


slow dancing

by sharkfish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Asexual Character, Asexual Dean Winchester, Fluff, Kissing, Marijuana, Music, Musician Castiel (Supernatural), Non-Binary Castiel (Supernatural), Recreational Drug Use, Singing, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22776244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: Cas is near enough that their chests are nearly pressed together, an arm around Dean with the leather of their glove against his neck. They press close, the song just for Dean’s ears.I know places we can go, babe/coming home, come unfold, babe/the high won’t fade here, babe/no, the high won’t hurt here, babe.When Cas sings, everything else disappears. Dean loves magic, as long as Cas’s songs are for him every now and then.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 149





	slow dancing

**Author's Note:**

> thank you [flo](http://casbean.tumblr.com)! 
> 
> there are a lot of songs in this story. here's the [playlist](https://play.google.com/music/playlist/AMaBXymJxs2lqGabY-5Tvtfuk2wlU0nFlUSSU0au6qxJycAdHpyegApqZ3hch-B_hYK3cszgHY4OJcRrS43QLuZ-8Ks4KIsEwA%3D%3D), but you can see the list in the end notes as well. 
> 
> cas sings one that is identified as one of their originals. i borrowed the lyrics from lucero.

###  THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRECIOUS TIME

There are always a lot of bare hands at Charlie’s, but it still makes Dean’s skin prickle and his eyes stray. There’s a lot you can tell from someone’s hands: Kevin’s anxious picking, Bela’s red-tipped manicure, the engine grease that never washes out from under Dean’s own nails. 

Dean doesn’t take off his gloves, but he also doesn’t flinch when Charlie leaps onto him, arms thrown around his neck. “You’re late, asshole.” 

“Yeah, but I brought whiskey.” 

Charlie grabs the bottle out of his hand and inspects the label. “Ok, you’re forgiven.” 

They each pour a drink, and she says, “Come on, you  _ have  _ to meet Cas.” 

Dean lets Charlie drag him outside, where a group of people are sitting around a black wire table passing around a joint. Dean vaguely recognizes them all, except the one who must be Cas. 

Dean is startled. It’s not like he had any particular mental picture of them, but he couldn’t have expected those eyes. Or the open, goofy-stoned smile when Dean says, “Hey. I’m Dean.” 

“Cas,” they say. Their hand is bare when they hold it out to shake Dean’s, but Charlie said Cas’s gift is something about music, like they’re some kind of savant. Probably not much they can do to hurt someone with a touch. 

Dean takes the empty seat to Cas’s left and accepts the joint when it makes it around to him. Cas folds back into the conversation about a tv show Dean hasn’t seen, but that’s ok because Dean is just staring at their hands. Guitar string callouses, piano player’s fingers. Nails with chipped black nail polish. They’re wearing a lot of silver rings of various designs. 

Dean picks up the thread of a secondary conversation with relief. It’s not like Cas is the only interesting person here, no reason to make a fool of himself. 

Before long he’s very, very stoned, starting to slump in his seat, and there’s a lull of people moving in and out of the house leaving just Dean and Cas on the porch. “I like your rings,” Dean says, stupidly. 

Cas looks down like they don’t remember what they’re wearing. “Oh. Thank you.” 

Jo barrels out of the house and somehow manages to climb into Dean’s lap before he can stop her. “Has Cas sang to you yet?”

“I don’t think Cas has any intention of serenading me, do ya?” Dean says, aiming the question at Cas. 

“I hadn’t decided yet,” Cas says, looking at Dean consideringly. Dean squirms under the intensity of their gaze. 

“What kind of stuff do you sing?” 

“Cas knows, like, every song in existence.” 

“No, that’s not —” Cas starts, exasperated like he’s argued with Jo about this before. 

“Fifty bucks if you can find one he doesn’t know.” Jo gives Dean’s cheek a smacking kiss. “Bye, lovers. Be safe.” 

“What do you like to sing?” 

Cas’s eyes squint into a smile. “Let me get my guitar.” 

“Grab me a beer?” 

“Sure.” 

Cas somehow manages to juggle a guitar, longneck, and Dr. Pepper. Dean raises an eyebrow at the soda, and Cas gives him a smile as they sit on the table with their guitar, facing Dean with their back to the rest of the party. “Alcoholic.” 

“Oh,” Dean says. “Should I not…?” 

Cas rolls their eyes and fiddles with the guitar. “That’s sweet, but you’re fine.” They give a final tiny twist to the tuners and then start to play.  _ I haven’t eaten a bite/or slept for three days or nights/that’s how I got to Memphis/that’s how I got to Memphis. _

Dean’s not the only one enchanted by Cas’s fingers, Cas’s voice. Other people start to wander over, but Dean’s eyes don’t move from watching Cas. 

_ Goddammit,  _ Dean hates magic, because he’s already a little in love. 

###  SOMEONE TO LOVE ME THE WHOLE DAY THROUGH 

When Charlie first told him an old friend of hers was going to move in with her and Jo for awhile, Dean felt a spike of jealousy and fear. Charlie gushed about them — “yes,  _ that  _ Cas Novak” — and Dean felt like he’d never measure up. 

But then he actually met Cas, and now he’s glad to have a way to bump into them. Charlie knows what he’s up to without Dean saying anything and keeps coming up with excuses why she and Jo have to leave so it’s just Cas and Dean on the couch watching sci-fi. 

“So,” Cas says, poking Dean’s thigh with their socked foot. They’re turned to face him from the other side of the couch, and Dean’s trying not to stare creepily at their hands, as usual. He hasn’t ever seen them covered. “What’s your gift? You always wear gloves.” 

Dean’s eyes widen and he blushes at the same time. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised that Cas would blurt out a shockingly intimate question while Battlestar Galactica plays in the background. “I’m not — I can’t  _ hurt  _ you. Just — used to them, I guess.” 

It’s a lie. Dean spends most of his day touching machines, coaxing their secrets out with just his fingertips, and the gloves feel awkward and constricting. 

Cas scoots closer and takes one of Dean’s hands. He just stares, unable to move as they carefully remove one of his gloves, their bare palms brushing. Dean is hyper-aware of the warmth of their skin against his.

Cas closes their eyes, a small, content smile on their mouth. “Let me play you a song.” 

“Yeah. Ok.” 

Cas squeezes Dean’s hand, then hops off the couch. Dean stares at his own hands while he waits and ends up tugging off his second glove. 

Cas is smiling when they come back in with their guitar. They reach out to touch Dean’s hand again, then settle down to play. Dean fumbles for the remote and manages to turn off the tv without taking his eyes off of Cas.

_ Let’s forget about the tongue-tied lightning/let’s undress just like cross-eyed strangers. _

Cas is wearing the same rings as always, but their fingernails are royal purple today. When the song is over, they say, “Thank you for indulging me.” 

“Dude, you’re amazing.” 

Cas blushes and Dean has the urge to kiss across the rise of their cheekbones. “Would you like me to play something?” 

“Jo said you know every song in existence.” 

“That’s an exaggeration, but I’m good at remembering songs when I hear them. You may have to hum a few bars.” 

“I’ll take it easy on you. You know any Neil Young?” 

Cas rolls their eyes. “Anyone who doesn’t should be forcibly removed.” Dean laughs, and then quiets, recognizing the song coming out of Cas’s fingertips immediately. 

Dean has chills listening to them sing. Their voice goes deeper, rougher, and Dean’s heart pounds along with the bump of Cas’s foot on the floor, keeping beat. 

There’s a silence after the last note fades. “Another one?” Cas says. “Do you like ‘Ohio’?” Dean nods, not sure what he’s agreeing to, and Cas plays. 

Later that night, Dean lays in bed and hates magic, because he knows Cas singing to him isn’t anything special. But it  _ felt  _ special, and Dean can’t stop thinking about touching Cas with bare hands. 

###  A WEAKNESS FOR WRITERS 

**Charlie:** Cas has requested your presence for Fajita Friday

**Dean:** You’re full of shit

**Unknown:** Hello Dean. It’s Cas. Please come to Fajita Friday. 

Dean isn’t surprised to get roped into grilling the steaks, but at least no one notices the way he watches Cas. He’s drawn to them, and not just when they’re singing. He likes the way Cas talks about movies and books and deep sea fish, of which they have a weird amount of knowledge, and he likes the way they smile big and goofy when they’re stoned, and he likes the way they touched him bare-handed without fear. 

After the food has been picked through, they all sit around the table in the backyard with a bowl. Jo brings out Cas’s guitar and they roll their eyes but smile, start to pluck at the strings as soon as it’s in their hands. 

“We still on for the fifty bucks?” Dean says to Jo. 

“Too bad Luck isn’t your thing, cuz you’re going to need it.” 

“Taylor Swift,” Dean says. 

Charlie cackles and says, “Weak,  _ weak  _ challenge.” 

Cas tilts their head to the side, fingers twitching. They make the song heartbreaking, melancholy, like love that turned into grief.  _ Please don’t ever become a stranger/whose laugh I could recognize anywhere.  _

The last notes fade and stumble away. Somewhere down the block, a dog barks and breaks the spell. 

“Something from a tv show soundtrack,” Jo says. “Not a theme song.” 

Cas smirks, starts to play, but Charlie throws a chip at them. “It’s cheating to play one of your own songs, asshole.” 

“Wait, what?” Dean says. 

“The Walking Dead used a couple of their songs.” 

Cas flushes and starts playing something else before Dean can ask. It feels raw, like boots on farmhouse steps.  _ Oh lord in the darkness/lead me on my way/lead me home/lead me home.  _

“Play me one of yours,” Dean says. 

_ I’ve only got this one wish/that I was good enough to make you forget/the only boy who ever broke your heart/because nights like these tear me apart.  _

“Holy shit,” Dean breathes, then covers it up with, “You know those lesbian twins?” 

“You know their names, Dean,” Charlie says, glaring. 

“I used to think I was a lesbian,” Cas says. “So yes, I know of them.” 

Charlie and Jo sing along tunelessly at high volume. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t find me attractive —!” 

“Your neighbors must hate you,” Dean says, even as Cas is transitioning into another song. 

“I have the voice of an angel, Dean,” Cas says, solemn and squinting. “They should feel blessed.” 

Dean laughs so hard he almost falls out of the chair, and then he requests some Bad Company. 

###  INDENTATION IN THE SHAPE OF YOU

Cas is wearing purple gloves to match their purple shirt when they knock on Dean’s door the first time. Before Dean even lets them in, he takes each of their hands and pulls off the gloves. He’s relieved at the familiarity of Cas’s rings, their long fingers.

Cas smiles at Dean almost shyly and pockets the gloves. There’s something happening between them that leaves Dean unsteady and exhilarated, but it doesn’t feel quite within reach, so he steps back before the moment fades on its own. 

“So,” Dean says over dinner on his couch. “No one told me you’re, like, famous.” 

Cas rolls their eyes and licks sauce off their thumb. “It’s not like anyone ever recognized me on the street.” 

“Walking Dead soundtrack. I remember that scene.” 

“The resurrection of the governor,” Cas says, and Dean nods. 

“Is your other stuff on Spotify or what?” 

Cas visibly recoils and says, “Yes, but I’d really rather you didn’t. Maybe I’ll sing more of them to you someday.” 

“Ok, I won’t,” Dean says, and then, “You’re really cool, you know that?” 

Cas laughs. It’s beautiful. “I think you’re pretty cool, too.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Dean says, trying not to blush.

Cas turns off the tv, then scoots closer to Dean in the silence. They take one of his hands — Dean can feel Cas’s gift, the melody of it — and weave their fingers together. “I can hear the music inside people, you know.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes. I’m rather fond of yours.” 

“I, uh.” Dean licks his lips. “I kinda — see the way things work. Machines, mostly.” 

Cas moves even closer so their leg is pressed up against Dean’s. “Is your family gifted too?” 

“Brother has Truth. Dad has Pain.” Pause. “No one wore gloves in our house.” 

“One of my brothers can play a cool perception warping trick, but the rest of my family are null. It was an interesting childhood.”

Dean catches Cas looking at his mouth. “Wait,” Dean says, though nothing has actually happened. “I’m — I’m ace.” 

Cas tilts their head to the side, squinting. “Ok.” 

Dean looks down but can’t make himself pull away. “Sorry. I thought — I thought you were going to kiss me.” 

“I was hoping you were going to kiss  _ me,”  _ Cas says with a tentative smile. “Have I misread? Do you not like kissing?” 

“I like it. But, you know…” 

“Sex is complicated for me,” Cas says. “I don’t miss it.” 

“Cool,” Dean says. He tugs on Cas’s hand and leans forward to meet them in the middle. 

It’s the best kind of first kiss: quiet, careful, warm with potential. Cas hums a little under their breath into the kiss and Dean can feel the magic coursing between their interlocked fingers. Cas’s gift feels like an adagio of wildflowers dancing around Dean’s. 

Cas is smiling in the crinkles of their eyes when Dean pulls away. “I know I already said this,” Cas murmurs, “but I really like your song. What it sounds like when I touch you.” 

“What does it sound like?” 

Cas cocks their head to the side, lips slightly parted, and Dean realizes this is what they look like when they’re  _ listening. _ They hum a little snatch of something, then grimace. “That’s not quite right. I think I would need — perhaps a cello.” 

Dean shivers when Cas strokes their fingers through his hair. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. He’s never been close to another gifted person, not like this, so maybe that’s the difference — the tingle and caress of magic — that has him a little breathless. 

“I don’t have my guitar, but can I sing you something?” 

“Yeah, go for it.” 

Cas swings their leg over Dean’s thighs, straddling him. “Is this ok?” 

Dean nods, hands coming up to wrap around Cas’s hips automatically. They lean down to kiss him, and hum their way into a song.  _ Say my name and everything just stops/I don’t want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so  _

“Oh my god,” Dean says, heaving Cas off of his lap and onto the couch. “I thought we were having a moment!” 

Cas bursts into giggles. Dean tries to glare and Cas says, “I caught you! You told me you don’t know any Taylor Swift songs.” 

“Listen,” Dean says, but can’t think of anything to actually say. “Ok, fine. I know this one.”

“It was still a moment.” 

Dean cracks and smiles, then grabs Cas’s hand again. “If it was still a moment, then you can finish the song.” 

###  THERE IS A PLACE, THERE IS A PLACE

Cas is wearing eyeliner and a black dress that shows their shoulders, and Dean is momentarily struck dumb. “Ok, you — should’ve warned me,” he says. 

Cas’s face falls in a way Dean hasn’t ever seen before, and their eyes drop. “If you want me to change, then I don’t want to go with you at all.” 

“No! Jesus, you look gorgeous. Not that — I mean — you always do. But I, uh. You know. Sorry.” Dean glances down at himself. “I’m a little underdressed. And I just made a dick of myself. Can I try again?” 

Cas frowns. “Ok.” 

“I’ll be right back.”

Dean walks out of Cas’s room, all the way down the hall, and stands in the living room to take a couple deep breaths. Cas hasn’t moved when Dean walks back into their room, still sitting on the bed with a shoe in hand. 

“Hey, baby,” Dean says. “Wow, you look fucking amazing.” 

Cas’s face softens and they laugh, throwing the shoe at Dean and bonking him in the stomach. “You’re an idiot.” 

“I know. You’re way out of my league.” 

Cas stands to kiss Dean. For some reason that surprises him just as much as the way Cas’s cheekbones glimmer in the light. “You look very nice,” Cas says. “I like you the way you are.” 

“Ditto,” Dean says. He takes Cas’s hand on the way out to the car and hates the fabric of the gloves between them, but he loves listening to Cas sing along to his playlist. 

When the hostess seats them at their lake-view table, Cas gives Dean a coy smile. “I didn’t expect you to take me on a  _ sunset  _ date.” 

“I was trying to do something nice. I haven’t been on a date in a long time.” 

Cas nudges their knee against Dean’s under the table. “Do you want to dance?” 

“You providing the music?” It’s not exactly a dancing place, but Dean doesn’t care. They could dance to the rhythm of the conversation around them. 

“Yes.” 

Cas stands and Dean takes their hand and allows himself to be pulled up and closer to the railing over the lake, out of the way. Cas is near enough that their chests are nearly pressed together, an arm around Dean with the leather of their glove against his neck. They press close, the song just for Dean’s ears.

_ I know places we can go, babe/coming home, come unfold, babe/the high won’t fade here, babe/no, the high won’t hurt here, babe.  _

When Cas sings, everything else disappears. Dean loves magic, as long as Cas’s songs are for him every now and then.

Joining Cas in their bed, both of them in t-shirts and underwear, is new and thrilling. Despite the bowls they smoked after dinner, Dean is tense with anticipation — of what, he’s not entirely sure. He hopes Cas will touch him first because he doesn’t know where to start. 

Cas turns on their side to face Dean and says, “I’m sorry I tested you earlier. That wasn’t fair.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The dress.” 

Dean looks over. Cas’s eyes are big and blue and there’s still a faint smudge of eyeliner along their lashes. “I get it. You never really know how people will react until — well, until they do.” Dean turns, slides his hand around Cas’s hip. “You’re gorgeous no matter what you wear.” 

“Thank you.” Cas smiles and leans closer to kiss Dean, brushing their fingertips along the curve of his ear. “How do you feel about making out?” 

“Pretty good,” Dean says. This close, he doesn’t know which part of Cas to focus on: the riptide of their eyes, the pink bow of their mouth, the curls where their hair is too long around their ears. 

Without looking, Cas takes Dean’s hand and weaves their fingers together, both of them buzzing with magic. The next kiss is fuller, lips parted, and Dean falls into it. The kisses melt into each other and at some point Dean can hear — not with his ears, but somewhere inside of him — Cas’s song. 

They’re both breathing deep and Dean’s mostly asleep when Cas mumbles, “How do you like your eggs?” 

“Sunny,” Dean mumbles back. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

“Goodnight.”

Dean nestles a little closer, tucking under Cas’s chin, and dreams in song. 

###  RIOT BALLET

Dean wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee and the sound of classical music drifting through the house. He’s alone in bed but warm under the rumpled blankets and not ready to face the sun yet, spends long minutes with his face pressed into Cas’s pillow.

It’s the coffee that gets to him, and he stumbles into a pair of jeans and down the hall. Charlie’s at the kitchen table, silent and grumpy with her hair a whirlwind of flames around her face, and Cas is standing at the stove. 

Cas turns to greet Dean with a smile. “Good morning, handsome.” 

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Dean says, giving Cas a squeeze around the middle and a kiss on the cheek before turning his attention to the waiting pot of coffee. 

“Gross,” Charlie says with a scowl. 

“Oh, please,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “Like it’s not a constant lesbian lovefest in this house.” 

“You should make the eggs. Cas always burns them.” 

“I do not,” Cas huffs. “I’m a great egg-maker.” 

Dean peers into the pan, mug of coffee in hand. “Edges are getting pretty crispy there, Casanova.” 

Cas glares but steps to the side so Dean can take over. The bacon is crackling, the coffee is good, and he’s spending the morning with his favorite people. Burnt eggs or not, it feels like a great day to be alive. 

“What are we listening to?” Dean asks, flipping the eggs onto waiting plates. 

“Stravinsky, ‘The Rite of Spring,’” Cas says. “He was a revolutionary. Gifted, I’m sure, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you admitted a hundred years ago.” 

Charlie starts shoving bacon in her mouth as soon as the plates hit the table. Cas hooks their foot around Dean’s ankle and gives him a smile. 

“Cas’s car is making a noise,” Charlie says. 

Cas frowns at her. “I’m taking it to the dealership this week.” 

“Yeah, but that’s what Dean  _ does.  _ He’s good at it.” 

“You’re not taking it to the dealership because they’ll fuck you,” Dean says. “I’ll look at it after breakfast.” 

Cas looks over at him, their smile small and pleased. 

Cas stands close as Dean runs his hands over the engine of their ugly, old Camry. The feeling of grease and oil tacking on his hands is the best in the world. “I can make her better than new,” Dean says. “I need to get you a loaner because it might take some time, but it’s doable.” 

Cas arches a skeptical eyebrow. “How much?” 

“Couple weeks, maybe. Depends on what my work schedule looks like.” 

“I meant how much money.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and bumps his hip against Cas’s. “Parts at cost. Labor’s free because I like you.” 

“You can’t do a couple weeks of work for —” 

Dean shuts them up with a kiss. “So I should pay you for all the times you’ve sung to me?” 

“Of course not. I love to — oh. It makes you happy to do it.” 

“It’s my gift, darlin’,” Dean says with a grin. “It makes me happy.” 

Despite the black smears, Cas takes Dean’s hand. They’re both bare and the touch sparks between them. Cas says, “I really like you.” 

Dean’s smile softens and he ducks his head down. “I really like you too.” 

“It’s my turn to take you on a date. When are you free?” 

“Pretty much any evening this week except Fajita Friday. Because it’s Fajita Friday.” 

“A sacrilege to miss it,” Cas says with a nod. “Tonight then.” 

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand, then kisses them again. Dean’s starting to think he can feel the music inside of Cas too. 

Cas lets Dean drive but doesn’t say where they’re actually going for the few hours it takes to make it to Dallas. Despite the shortness of the drive, they treat it like a real road trip: a million snacks and drinks, a special playlist, the creak of Dean’s knees when they stop at a gas station. 

“Wait, really?” Dean says as they walk up to the entrance of the World Aquarium. 

Cas tilts their head. “Does that mean this was a bad choice?” 

“No,” Dean says. He takes Cas’s hand, and there’s no gift magic between their gloves, just the regular kind when you’re falling in love with someone. “I’ve never been. Seems cool.” 

“There’s a manatee,” Cas says, like this is the best news in the world. “And a sloth.” 

Dean pulls out his card out, but Cas shoves him aside to pay, flashing Dean a grin. The cashier glances down as if to check that Cas is in gloves before taking the card. Unlike Dean, Cas has a drawer full of different glove styles. Today they’re wearing a pair with black lace detailing. They put up with Dean’s teasing as they chose this pair to match their shirt with delicate lace around their neckline, which is wide enough to bare their collarbones and the tops of their shoulders. Every part of Cas is so goddamn gorgeous that Dean has a hard time not staring. 

The aquarium is huge and they spend a lot of time looking at fish and small reptiles and terrifyingly large crocodiles. Cas is animated and smiling the whole time, chattering about each of the animals they see. Despite all the times Dean has listened to Cas talk about a random variety of topics, he somehow had no idea Cas had all this information rolling inside around them. 

They turn a corner, and Dean stops short, even as Cas continues forward, their hands still linked. There’s a manatee watching them. “Dean,” Cas says, exasperated, and Dean remembers how to move his feet to follow Cas closer to the glass. 

“Holy shit, that thing’s huge,” Dean says. 

“Can you believe people used to think they were mermaids?” 

“I don’t really see the resemblance.” But Dean does understand Cas’s awe, because it’s one of the coolest things Dean has ever seen. A rolly-polly of an animal, watching them with a vague curiosity, unmoving. 

They stand watching for a long time, even though the manatee barely moves. Families flow around them, and Dean wonders what kind of song manatees have inside them. He wishes Cas could find out.

“There are birds ahead,” Cas says. “So we should go.” 

It’s still a few more minutes before they move. Even the giant anteater doesn’t compare to a thousand pounds of mermaid, but eventually they make it to an enclosure full of tweeting birds, a couple people inside with a bird or two sitting on their shoulders or arms. 

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand, and after a minute the supervisor gestures Dean and Cas in, talks about the birds, and hands them each a cup of seeds. The birds approach, and from Cas’s expression, Dean can suddenly imagine what Cas looked like as a kid who still sees a world full of wonder. 

When the supervisor turns away, Cas winks at Dean and tugs their glove a bit to reveal a strip of bare skin on the back of their hand. A bird comes down, and Cas adjusts their hand so one of the bird’s feet is touching. It didn’t seem possible, but their smile lights up even more, and they hum a bit while the bird pecks seeds from the cup. 

Another bird comes down, bumping the first out of the way, and Cas hums something else while it hops and flies to settle on their shoulder. “What we call birdsongs aren’t really music, you know,” Cas says. “But they still have music inside them.” 

Dean pulls them close to kiss them, sending seed scattering across the floor. The supervisor gives them a  _ look  _ and they decide to head out into the Texas sunshine. 

“Have you figured out my song yet?” Dean says. 

“I know what it is. I’m just not sure the best way to recreate it for you.” Cas smiles over at Dean, and Dean wants to bottle this moment. “Someday. I promise.” 

At the car, Dean takes one of Cas’s hands, and then the other, to pull off their gloves. Cas takes the half-step closer to Dean to kiss him, both hands clasped together. 

“A really good date,” Dean says. 

“It’s not quite over. Now for the food portion.” 

###  WITCHETY-WITCHETY-WICHETY  


Dinner is rich southern food where almost everything is fried, and Cas spends it quietly imitating bird calls and talking about how they aren’t art the way music is. They don’t say much, not like the songs people make. Not like the songs birds have inside them. 

Dean just listens, half-distracted by how crazy it is to be on a date with someone so smart and beautiful and overall awesome. He’s grateful for the songs that led him to Cas. 

“Hey,” Cas says, bumping their foot against Dean’s. “I’m sorry for boring you to death.” 

“No! That’s not it at all. I’m just… thinking.” 

Cas’s fingers twitch like they want to take their gloves off again to touch. “About what?” 

“You. And me. Whatever’s happening here.” 

Cas squints. “What do you think is happening?” 

“I think.” Dean pauses, exhales. “I think you’re tied with Charlie for the best person I know. Except I like you — um, romantically.” 

“I thought that was the case,” Cas says, a little smile on their mouth. “I like you too. I have a lot of songs to show to you.” 

“It sucks that I can’t do something cool for you too. My gift is pretty boring.” 

Cas rolls their eyes. “It is not, and I would stand around watching you touch machines any time.” 

“Is that a kink?” Dean says, shoving a bite of cobbler into his mouth at the same time. 

“It makes me feel all tingly. Maybe just leftovers of your gift.” 

Dean blushes and ducks his head. He hadn’t realized that parts of him lingered with Cas, unable to leave them completely for long after it should. Cas nudges him under the table again. 

“Wait,” Dean says, the little hope inside of him shrinking a bit. “You know we’re never going to have sex, right? I mean, maybe someday — sex could be less complicated for you. But I still won’t want to.”

Cas tilts their head. The server comes by to deliver coffee and collect their empty plates. “It’s not complicated. I want to be with you, and you don’t want to have sex. Why would I expect any different?” 

“I dunno,” Dean says, pretending there’s suddenly something interesting happening out the window. “People do. Expect different.” 

“I know,” Cas says. “People expect different of me, too.” 

“For the record,” Dean says, giving Cas a smile. “I don’t.” 

The hotel room is nice, with a huge white bed and a huge rock-tiled shower that drops rain from the ceiling. “Dibs,” Dean says, then smiles bashfully. “Or, uh. We could share.’ 

Cas’s brow furrows and they’re silent long enough that Dean almost rescinds. “Do you want to smoke a bowl first?” 

Dean does, so they start the shower, shove towels under the door, and sit on the floor smoking and giggling. By the time the bowl is cashed, even Dean’s clothes feel damp with steam. They stand, and Dean’s the one a little unsteady on his feet as he presses Cas against the counter to kiss them. 

Between magic and smoke and steam, everything is a little hazy and extra good. Dean starts to tug at Cas’s shirt, then breaks out of the kiss to murmur, “Ok?” 

“Yes,” Cas says, lifting their arms for Dean to pull off their shirt. 

Dean’s shirt is next, and then pants, and then they’re giggling their way into the shower. There’s a moment where they just stand under the spray and grin at each other, droplets of water catching on Cas’s eyelashes like glitter, and then they share a kiss that melts into a hundred kisses. 

It’s been forever since Dean has touched or been touched like this, hands exploring every part of him and leaving tingling trails in their wake, not grabbing or fondling or trying to draw him into sex, just care and affection. And worshipping Cas’s body with his own hands, every smooth plane and ridge and bump and scar. 

“Dean,” Cas says, barely louder than the shower. “Does it bother you that this turns me on?” 

Dean flinches and takes a step back. Jesus, of course. He feels so fucking stupid to just — love touching Cas and accept that they’re ok with a sexless relationship. Just like everyone else, Cas thinks Dean can be tricked into it. 

“No, wait,” Cas says. “I don’t want to have sex, not really, but… this is still arousing somehow. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

Dean blinks, trying to parse this through the wave of anger mixed with self-loathing that was trying to overtake him. “Oh,” he says. 

“And,” Cas says, rushing into it. “I don’t usually like to be touched like this. It’s just a reminder that — things aren’t quite right. But I like it with you, I think.” 

Dean takes a half-step back towards Cas, and Cas meets him in the middle, wrapping their arms around Dean’s neck. “Plus I’m really hot,” Dean says, giving them a cheeky grin. 

“Shut up,” Cas says before stealing Dean’s reply with a kiss. 

They stay in the shower sharing aimless jokes and stupid stories until they’re as wrinkled as raisins. Dean catches himself staring as Cas pulls on a t-shirt and underwear, entranced by the lines of their body. It’s not sexual, but it means  _ something.  _ Something Dean will figure out how to say later, if Cas doesn’t hear the change in his song. 

Before Dean can climb into the cool sheets, Cas grabs his hands and weaves their fingers together. The caress of their gifts together feels so good that Dean all but melts into Cas, nuzzling against their jaw. 

“Dance with me,” Cas says. 

Dean nods in agreement and Cas pulls him closer, their hands still clasped together. Cas kisses Dean’s temple and sings softly,  _ If you love somebody enough, you’ll follow wherever they go/that’s how I got to Memphis/that’s how I got to Memphis... _

**Author's Note:**

> [reallyelegantsharkfish on tumblr](http://reallyelegantsharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> song list, in order of appearance:
> 
> That's How I Got to Memphis - Tom T. Hall  
> Old Man - Neil Young  
> New Year's Day - Taylor Swift  
> I am trying to break your heart - Wilco  
> Dress - Taylor Swift  
> I Know Places - Lykke Li  
> Where Does the Good Go - Tegan & Sara  
> Ohio - Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young  
> Nights Like These - Lucero  
> Lead Me Home - Jamie N Commons  
> The Rite of Spring - Igor Stravinsky 
> 
> title song:
> 
> Slow Dancing - Lucero


End file.
